Myanmar's beleaguered opposition

The isolation ward

The junta’s latest outrage and the debate over the West’s failed Myanmar policies

APPEARING in a court in prison in Yangon this week Aung San Suu Kyi, Myanmar's opposition leader, appeared “composed, upright and crackling with energy”, according to Mark Canning, Britain's ambassador. He was one of a handful of diplomats and journalists afforded a glimpse of proceedings. After spending most of the past two decades in more or less restrictive forms of detention, and recently in poor health, her composure is remarkable; all the more so given the almost laughable nature of the charges against her. She is accused of having broken the terms of her house arrest by offering hospitality to John Yettaw, an American who swam uninvited to her house across the adjacent lake, helped by plastic containers as floats and homemade wooden flippers.

The backdrop to this farce is an election expected early next year. It always seemed impossible that the junta would free Miss Suu Kyi before then. Mr Yettaw's hapless intrusion simply provides them with the flimsiest of pretexts not to. She still retains the popularity which gave her a sweeping victory in the country's election in 1990, a result the generals ignored. In preparation for the new poll, dissent has been quashed even more ruthlessly than usual. The number of political prisoners has doubled since 2007 to around 2,100.

There are many other reasons to dismiss next year's election as a sham. Last year a referendum on a new constitution recorded a 92% “yes” vote amid rampant manipulation. The “no” campaign was banned. The constitution, scheduled to take effect after the election, ensures the army's continued dominance of politics, with a quarter of parliament reserved for it, a ban on dissent and sweeping emergency powers for the chief of the army.

EPANot much left of the opposition

The process has almost nothing to do with democracy, yet many diplomats and observers regard it as the greatest political change for a generation. After four decades of absolute military rule, three-quarters of parliament and members of the new government itself will be civilians, or at least retired soldiers. It appears that some powers will be devolved to the provinces. The junta is undergoing a generational shift. Several generals, including the junta's leader, Senior General Than Shwe, are nearing retirement. This seems to be their bid for a peaceful old age. Sceptical as they are about the hopes for progress, for many Burmese any change is better than none.

Miss Suu Kyi's National League for Democracy (NLD) has not ruled out contesting the election and some survivors of a mass uprising against the army in 1988 may stand. Optimists dream that the opposition might establish a foothold in parliament, or that a business-minded, civilian, political class might slowly emerge. More important than the stance of the NLD, almost obliterated by the junta, will be that of the myriad insurgent outfits representing Myanmar's non-Burmese ethnic groups. They are mostly observing ceasefires in the country's 60-year civil war, but are still undecided about the election.

Nor has the outside world decided how to view the process. In February Hillary Clinton, America's secretary of state, started a debate on Western policy when she said that neither sanctions nor engagement had worked. That debate may now be hijacked by the latest outrages.

For decades after seizing power the generals clung to it by isolating the country themselves. After the massacres that ended the 1988 revolt, America and Europe began imposing sanctions, which both recently renewed. Meanwhile, the Burmese economy is suffering from years of mismanagement, sanctions and the impact of the global financial crisis on remittances and commodity exports. Inflation is running at around 30% a year. Millions face desperate hardship.

Yet Myanmar's rich resources of natural gas and other commodities, and the strategic access it offers western China to the Indian Ocean, mean that the country has no shortage of Asian trading partners. The regime attempted to open up to global investment in the mid-1990s, but many Western companies were quickly deterred again by divestment campaigns run by exiles and Western activists. Humanitarian aid has also been strictly limited, so that Myanmar receives $2.80 of annual aid per head compared with $55 for Sudan. Some senior foreign officials in Yangon argue for the return of the World Bank and the IMF, which left after 1988. With even a limited mandate they could help professionalise the utterly inept bureaucracy. Without that, any kind of reform process or political transition is probably impossible.

According to this view the top generals are wicked, but not everyone inside the system is. And given the state of Myanmar's economy, the choice may be between working with the government and not working with anyone. Those arguing for more engagement believe Myanmar's best hope is gradual change, assisted by exposure to Western influence. The junta has smashed its enemies so thoroughly that the only alternative, short of violent upheaval, might be no change at all.